‘Twas the night before Christmas in these Ozark hills,
Not a creature was stirring, cause we’d all had our fill.
My brother was crashed out in his bed,
While visions of deer hunting danced in his head;
Pa in his Lazy Boy, and ma in her cap,
Had just turned in for a little cat nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a ruckus,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the fuss,
I flew faster than a throwed roll
Tore open the curtains, and what do you know?
The moon was so bright on the new-fallen snow,
Not even Silver Dollar City has that kind of glow.
Rubbed my eyes ‘cuz I seen something queer,
Headed my way was a sleigh and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver who moved right quick,
I knew right away it must be St. Nick.
Their antlers were impressive, second to none,
I was just glad grandpa wasn’t here with his gun.
More rapid than hawks to our house they came,
Hootin’ and hollerin’, he called them by name;
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!”
Up to the house-top those reindeer flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
Ma wouldn’t like what I heard on the roof
The scratching and scraping of each little hoof.
That was followed by an awful sound
Like a sack of black walnuts hitting the ground.
And down the chimney Santa came with a bound.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
I was dying to know what was in that sack.
From his head to his feet, he was dressed all in camo;
I guess Santa also likes to shop at Bass Pro.
He had a round face and was a big fella,
Methinks St. Nick should lay off the Mexican Villa.
The boots on his feet were as a black as a crow,
The beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
His cheeks were so rosy, I could tell he felt fine,
Because he’d had a nip of the dandelion wine
He was chubby and plump, a friendly old elf,
And I snickered when I saw him, in spite of myself;
He filled the stockings right in front of me
Then shoved some more gifts under the tree
Turning for his cookies, Santa gave me a smile
Forget cookies! I left out cashew chicken Springfield-style.
He licked his fingers, dusted off his clothes,
Then lickety-split, up the chimney he rose;
It was like nothing I’d ever seen,
He was perched up there like the Sucker Days Queen.
He sprang to his sleigh, told the reindeer to take flight,
“Let’s go! It’s going to rise 60 degrees tonight.”
But I heard him exclaim, as he flew out of sight,
“Merry Christmas you Ozarkers, and to all a good night.”
